“The expression of a well made man appears not only in his face It is in his limbs and joints alsoIt is curiously in the joints of his hips and wristsIt is in his walk, the carriage of his neck the flex of his waist And knees, dress does not hide himThe strong sweet quality he has strikes through the cotton and broadcloth To see him pass conveys as much as the best poem perhaps moreYou linger to see his back, and the back of his neck and shoulder side.”– Walt Whitman.

……..Smell is a poem about love, lust and separation.About the city, the sea and desperation.But who wouldn’t lust after this deity’s physique or his smell, which would linger long after he leaves.

Reminiscence of a place- distant in my memoryA sea shore and a cobbled trackA stony bench on which we satI thanked the winter sunFor the heat made him sweatAnd I sat next to himInhaling the perfection of the momentFlirtatious eyes turning toward him

A boy- perfect in every way.And I tried shielding my gazeBut how could I?When he spokeI was only half listeningAnd half studying his face

He spoke of passions that vexed himOf his mother, he loved with all his heartOf philosophies his 19 year old heart could seldom fathomed Of beaches, fish tacos and sand.Of his sister, his brothers and his fatherOf a girl I didn’t want to hear aboutSo I lifted my gaze and looked awayEnvy- now observable in mine.

But each detail of his face-memorizedEach smell, like a fragrance-compartmentalizedMore perfume at an instanceSweat and soap at anotherSweat and fresh when he played soccerOf the sea, salty and tempestuousWhen he swam in the ocean

His skin, smooth, untanned and untouchedHis mere presence fuelled dreams of intense pleasureAnd my submission- to this deity-I had already yieldedAs I whispered to him“Take me and do to me as you please-““Hurt me and bruise my skinBut please, don’t leave”For I’m every bit less a human

Incomplete without youYour body and your perfume.

But if your love is too much to askStay with me, a little longer& Tell me about your dreams But don’t ask me about mineFor they’re all consumed by you, your naked body and your perfume.

Preserved are our evenings of playfulnessin a hologramDetached from the grasp of reality; Memories Of his black T-shirt coming off In his silver carParked by the beachOf uninterrupted touching and love making Of his bare body pressing against mineOf his erection pumping to the rhythm of the sea Of moans, laughs and love professed Of regret, the day afterOf him and I unitingOne, our spirit and bodyOur Arcadia on Earth in that silver sedan.

But Oh! The misfortune of such loveWhen one knows the other to be his twin, in body and soul The other, unawareA disposition of indifferenceLeft alone to shed tears of yearning and separation.

Did she know the intricacies of his body?His torso and the veins on his neckOr his mind, a child-like temperament

Or his soul, a part of meHe so willing let her stealAnd by doing so, crushing me.My Arcadia came crashing to this plane of diabolic reality

Done away with an ecstatic dream like stateUnder a then perennial winter sunGiven way to a catatonic sleepless oneWhere even in my dreamsYour presence is lacking.

And washed up on stony shoresLike the foam of the wave that broke on thisIs the Eden you so readily showedAnd snatched away from meAn eternity worth of pleasureWhen you-Unmade my chastity

And when you slept that nightWarm, by the campfireThe cold stung me deep withinYour body lay envelopedIn the gentle embrace of the raysBouncing off the burning embersYour complexion, fiery like the flameMy sorrow, like stars in the smooth shimmering sea A distorted reflection of burning hot passionFloating amass , so near yet so far away from the object of it’s desireWhat had once burned stronger than the flameNow cold, because of the distanceFrom the element that fed it with the energy Much like my soul

Subjected to this cruel depravity.

And years from nowIf you see me on the streetOf a city different from thisWill you look me in the eyesAnd yet see through meRefuse to acknowledge my existenceOr will you ask me how I have beenAnd have the nonchalance rip my heart in pieces

Will you grab me by the throatAnd try erasing a passionate mistake you once made Or ask me if I’m doing fine And I’d say, how could I?When I’m deprived of the presence that once gave me life.

Would my standoffish eyebrow raiseGive away my distasteFor the woman your eyes so lovingly beholdAnd for me has that censureA feigned hatredThat boiled after that eveningWhen two young souls did thingsGuided by unadulterated lust and liveliness

But before you part this timeWhen she has her face turned elsewherePray, will you steal me one last glanceOne last gazeOne last smile, for old times sakeAnd see the wary, disarming tear trickle down my face To which you would half heave and half sigh

Two men, having accepted their fate.

And I would foolishly prayTo be the only reasonFor your footsteps to retreatBack to where I stoodTo kiss my lips and touch my faceOr to push me away-Shove me against an incoming waveLost to oblivionLost in the sea of strangers- living without a face In a city- living without a name.

Tags

Share

About the author

Dhruv is a 22 year old poet. Pursuing a masters in Society and Culture
Studying geopolitics and comparative literature are his particular interests. You can find him hunting for inspiration in literature/film festivals or in obscure archaic bookstores, or just casually strolling on busy streets.

Follow Gaysi

Gaysi is a space where the Desi-Gay community comes together and shares personal stories, their triumphs and failures, their struggles and their dreams, their hopes and despair. And in doing so, gives other gaysis a sliver of hope too. More